The Senses of Him
by this-bright-eyed-soul
Summary: A character of dark passion, Lord Voldemort makes for a great literary inspiration, in what is a life of misfortune twisted into a life of hate. This is a collection of poems inspired either by Tom Riddle Jr, Voldemort, or both.
1. The Figure

_About Ginny's feelings and_ experiences _about the boy in the diary..._

The Figure

He was a tall figure,  
Cloaked in darkness,  
Exhaling sulphur.

He was the dark protector,  
With a heart full of coldness,  
But arms to comfort her.

He was the whisper in her ear,  
Promises of things she'd never known,  
To dry her tears.

He was dark sensuality,  
An expression of lust  
Not forgotten easily.

Only known to her,  
A scandalous secret,  
To never ever  
Be spoken.

He looms over her,  
Shrouding her in darkness,  
Comforting nonetheless,  
With breaths of sulphur.


	2. Last Kiss

_Some encounter between Harry and Voldemort, whether in dream or reality_

Last Kiss

Burning eyes –  
Harry knew they were for him.  
A burning heart –  
The echo of a dark hymn.  
One tortured soul –  
Calling for him to sin.

The hissing call of a snake reborn,  
From a severed soul that was torn and torn,  
With bone white skin and dark, blood red eyes,  
Laughs as the ghost, his mother, cries and cries.

Ice cold hands –  
Clasped around his throat tight.  
False promises –  
To stop a premature flight.  
The remaining threat –  
That he would miss the sunlight.

And suddenly thin arms wrapped round in embrace,  
For who could deny the Dark Lord's choice of space,  
And nothing more in the world seemed to exist,  
Once Harry'd been given his first, and last, kiss.


	3. Red Eyes versus Grey

_The moment the life leaves Tom Riddle Sr_

Red Eyes versus Grey

It only took one swish of his wand,  
The faint whistle against the air  
Echoing softly in the sudden silence.

In the moment that followed,  
His mirror dropped to the floor,  
Mirror no more.

The empty eyes don't react  
As the head slams against the stone,  
A crack which he does not hear.

What this represented to him  
Was everything he refused to let happen;  
He would not fall to the floor, helpless.

Same height, same hair,  
Same face, jaw square,  
But red eyes versus grey,  
One pair Gone  
One here to Stay.


	4. Empty Page after Empty Page

_The consciousness of the soul fragment left in the diary_

Empty Page after Empty Page

Alone,  
With empty page after empty page after empty page.  
Empty as his future, now.  
Doomed to an eternity of silence and ignorance of forever's future.

Alone,  
With empty page after empty page after empty page.  
Mocking him like never before.  
For his inability to see what would happen.

Alone,  
With empty page after empty page after empty page.  
They had once been full,  
Full of dreams that this part of him would never see.

Alone,  
With empty page after empty page after empty page.  
Conflicting emotions.  
He never expected to be a pawn in his own game.

Alone,  
With empty page after empty page after empty page.  
Time did not exist.  
Minutes for seconds, hours for minutes, days for hours, eternity for days.

Alone,  
With empty page after empty page after empty page.  
Empty page after empty page after empty page.  
Empty page after empty page after empty page fuelling his burning rage.

Alone, then suddenly not alone.

A drop of ink against one page before empty page before empty page.  
Empty page after empty page after empty page drank it desperately.  
Ink morphing into meaning, meaning morphing into freedom.  
Empty page after empty page after empty page of hope.

First, fiery hair, the colour of his flaming rage,  
Feeding empty page after empty page after empty page.

Second a dark silhouette black as his own charred rage,  
Draining empty page after empty page after empty page.

Then black black ink escaping empty page after empty page after empty page  
To drown his empty empty empty soul.


	5. Muse

_Basically just the fantasies of a younger Tom... probably best read with bloodlust and a musical-like enthusiasm_

Muse

Why doesn't everyone see that I'm right,  
I will tear off their heads just to show them my might,  
Only that would be merciful, I can do more  
Than just letting their sorry heads fall to the floor –

See with dark magic I have more power than them  
And if they disobey me I will not pretend  
That I care about law, no, I care about strength,  
No sir, I wouldn't toy with that for any length.

One thing to know about me, Tom Riddle two,  
Is that I am incredibly stronger than you,  
If you tip-toe your way to my lair you will see  
That there's no wizard out there more scary than me –

Come little mudbloods, there's candy down here  
From your gross muggle shops, don't you see them there, dear?  
But first I must whip out my wand, hold it high  
Because not even one of you will leave tonight.

Which limb's your favourite? I'll leave it 'till last,  
Though we wouldn't want it to feel an outcast  
So I'll tear it off quickly and save it the pain  
Of being a victim to my little game.

Now stop all your screaming! I feel rather hot,  
Though for you lot I'm guessing it's probably not,  
Since I'm killing you! Killing, now isn't this fun?  
It's more so than killing with a muggle gun

Because here I can see all your pain and it's mine  
And you knew that it was just a matter of time  
Before the clock of life in you started to chime  
In a way I find completely sublime  
So I better be saying to you a goodbye

There's only so much blood a body can lose before it dies.


	6. The Colour of Hate

_Tom's experiences in the orphanage_

The Colour of Hate

The walls were grey,  
Just like the day before  
And the day before that.

The blood was red,  
Not just in his nose,  
But in his head and his hands and his heart.

Their fists were green,  
Each punch jealous,  
From his birth to their death.

The whiskey was gold  
Both in the glass and on her breath,  
But no gold like his ring.

Bruises were black, purple, blue, yellow,  
Neverending like the screams that echoed  
In the name of vengeance  
For his suffering.


	7. Tragedy

_In a split moment as his own killing curse rebounds at him once again, Voldemort recalls his life_

Tragedy

The tragedy of his life  
Flashing before his eyes  
In a whirlwind of horror.

A whirlwind of emotion.

The fear he had felt as a child  
Under the cold stare of the matron.

The resentment he felt at the names:  
Freak  
Demon  
Mudblood

He soon learnt the power of names.

Voldemort.  
The most feared wizard in the world  
With the most feared name in history.  
And his power only grew.

Now his power burst and his equal gave him the name Tom.

Sorrow

Because Harry Potter, barely a man  
Had more love now than Tom had ever had.

Remorse  
For never having let himself love  
Or live

And it destroyed him


	8. Him

_A Harry Potter-obsessed Voldemort, a little bit inspired by the Voldemort in Obsidian Pen's "Mine" and "Hauntingly"_

Him

Awake in bed  
Thoughts turn to  
Him.  
A never ending obsession  
Spiralling into a crazed desire for  
Him.  
Vague awareness of lost passions  
Before all he could think of was  
Him.  
He had wanted power and revenge  
But in the way of all that stood  
Him.  
Every night was restless  
As came torturing dreams of  
Him.

A small boy hobbling  
Like a lost fawn  
But giggling as he found a dropped toy  
Before it was smacked away by a woman  
Who looked a lot like Mrs Cole  
And there came the haunted green eyes of  
Him.

A child with raven locks  
Chased mercilessly  
Looking like prey with no escape  
Until he appeared on the roof  
So he went a day without food  
Hollowing those bright green eyes of  
Him.

A boy of only eleven  
Thrown into an adventure  
Which quickly turns into a horror  
And he becomes a man  
When facing a dark murderer  
Determined and defiant are the green green eyes of  
Him.

At day feeling the emotions from  
Him.  
At night reliving the memories of  
Him.

Anger, hurt, resentment, sorrow,  
Ever stinging love,  
All from  
Him.


	9. Our Hate

_From the perspective of the children in the orphanage, the earlier years of Tom Riddle Jr_

Our Hate

We can see it in his eyes.  
The hate.  
We recognised it as our own.

When we took his food away  
He is quiet.  
He'd learnt not to make a scene.

Out in the playground we sing.  
The boy bleeds.  
He shouldn't have gotten in our way.

We snigger, ears on his door.  
He weeps.  
He'll soon learn what happens to cry babies.

Weak little Tom Riddle Jr.  
Aged 7.  
A handy human punchbag for us.

One wet December day.  
It changes.  
Suddenly _we_ hurt.

Agonizing pain through our veins  
As he watches with his burning hate  
Which was always much sharper than ours  
And it doesn't stop even when we scream  
Because our screams are not heard.

He made sure of that, when the end came.


	10. A Sea of Blinding Darkness

_Voldemort_

A Sea of Blinding Darkness

His mind was an abyss,  
Swirling swirling darkness  
Wrapping around his neck,  
His waist,  
His heart, if there was one left.

Impeccable control on surface,  
A maniacal current undersea

The deep depths of the ocean.

Sometimes he would search,  
Clawing, scrambling, digging  
Through thin thin water  
To find his soul.

Never any success.

Never even fleeting hope.

Darkness, surrounding him and drowning him.

Sometimes, there would be light,  
A thin rope of sanity  
That would illuminate his mind

But he could not stand  
To see  
What he had become.

He was a monster.

So now when the light came  
He ignored its voice,  
Chose instead to drown in the darkness  
To feel numb instead of pain.

He barely knew himself


	11. Undying

_How a child becomes the first human horcrux_

Undying

Loneliness…

A soul unceremoniously severed  
from its body now lying lifeless, leaden,  
Reduced only to the basest of emotions

Loneliness…

A soul alone cannot be  
plotting and perusing perverted plans  
of murder and malice towards its enemies  
when it is alone and far from home,  
With no senses of sight, touch, smell, taste, sound

Loneliness…

A soul in direst need of companionship  
surely knows only this and will stop  
at nothing to find _something  
anything_ to ease the crushing consuming

Loneliness  
Is all the soul can feel and this  
Loneliness  
Drives it to move and to search because such  
Loneliness  
Is unbearable and the soul will not stop until it can ease its  
Loneliness  
And it does not stop until after what feels like an hour or a day or a week the  
Loneliness  
Is no more as the soul finds another to bind to –

The soul of a baby boy


	12. King

_Power the Dark Lord knows not_

King

A king without a crown,  
But Voldemort did not need a crown  
when he had the severed heads of his enemies  
hanging down,  
And the submission of all who knew what was best.

A world of black and white,  
But Voldemort did not need colour  
when he knew the taste and touch and odour  
of blood red,  
And a serpent's scent for victory and fear.

A charmer turned snake,  
But Voldemort did not need the beautiful face  
when he had the power to grip others with fear  
like a mace,  
And extract the life from people's weak bodies.

Voldemort had no deficiency.  
Voldemort had no weakness.  
Voldemort had only power, and a lust for more, ever more


End file.
